The Five Steps
by quiveringbunny
Summary: This is kind of a trop-y story featuring Oliver and Felicity on a night when Oliver arrives unexpectedly.
1. Introducing the Five Steps

Thank you for reading this story. It is only two chapters. I hope you enjoy it! I wasn't sure I had another Olicity piece in me, but I had a very serendipitous opportunity to breathe the same air as a certain green leather-clad actor and well, I managed to get inspired! Comments are always appreciated and welcome.

**xx**

Lurking at Felicity's front door wasn't exactly where Oliver wanted to be at 2 am. Right now he wasn't sure what worried him more - that she might be in trouble or that Palmer could be inside, in her bed, doing things he usually only thought about when he was slamming a sledgehammer into the floor of the Arrow Cave.

It was supposed to be an "off" night, but Oliver had become restless and ventured out without backup. Then he was jumped by a couple of henchmen from the League of Assassins on his way home, and while he just managed to fight them off, he was worried that the rest of 'Team Arrow" might have been targeted as well.

Digg and Roy responded to texts promptly, first complaining of the late hour and then assuring him they were fine. Repeated messages and calls to Felicity had gone unanswered, which brought him to this spot. He had tried looking in the windows first, but only saw a hazy light in the living room, which didn't console him. After initially tripping over a small bag of trash next to the door, Oliver lingered a moment, debating whether or not she should disturb the occupants.

The Arrow unscrewed the porch light, not wanting to be seen in his costume. He scanned the neighborhood for signs of movement, then, feeling safe there was no one, tapped gently with the door knocker.

The door opened quickly, signaling Felicity wasn't far when she heard the noise. She was surprised anyone would approach at that hour and seeing him in his suite through the peephole only added to the sudden rush of adrenalin she felt.

Oliver immediately felt relief upon seeing her familiar form on the other side of the door. She was okay.

"Oliver! Come in!" She glanced out the door for witnesses, then grabbed his leather-clad arm and tugged him inside. "What's going on?"

"I was trying to reach you. Did you get my texts? I was worried." As he entered, Felicity noticed right away that something was wrong with Oliver. His usual manly stride was gone and he was favoring one leg. Oliver stifled a grimace, noting to himself that the throbbing in his thigh wasn't going away - a little parting gift from a machete-wielding henchman that he would deal with later.

"Yeah. My phone is...out of commission," she responded, a bit mysteriously, if you asked Oliver. Felicity noticed his inquisitive expression and handily deflected it by focusing on him. "Something's wrong."

Oliver tried to stand still, but hitched a little. "A couple of Ra's guys were out there tonight. I was worried about...the Team."

"Right. Team. What were you doing patrolling without backup?" At this point, all Oliver's attention was directed at her. Felicity looked freshly scrubbed and her hair was down, falling softly around her exquisite face. She was wearing a loose blue bathrobe with a cloud pattern on it, layered over a grey Henley that looked suspiciously like one of his and black lounge pants. Her feet were odd. She was wearing those sponge things women put in between their toes for pedicures. He had obviously interrupted her.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep. Please don't lecture me. I know I screwed up." Felicity made a face and held her tongue. She was silently relishing the moment - seeing him standing there in her living room, still suited up in sexy green leather. It was kind of surreal, like finding a giraffe in telephone booth.

"Do you want something to drink?" She headed toward the kitchen and flipped on the light, but as she passed him, a scent of soap and wildflowers trailed behind her and he inhaled gratefully.

Oliver hesitated. He wasn't planning on hanging around, but just being around her was changing his mood and rehabilitating his night, so yeah, why not?

"Sure. Whatever you're having. But I have to ride home." Oliver slipped the mask off his face and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. Then, he took a few guarded steps toward the breakfast bar that separated the living room and cooking area.

"Okay, but I was planning on getting kind of hammered," she stated nonchalantly. "I don't have to be anywhere." Oliver unzipped his jacket and draped it on a bar stool. That's when he noticed a shopping bag sporting a logo from a local lingerie shop on the counter beside him. Glancing down, the fabrics, satin and lacy were more than intriguing but he guessed it might not be a good idea to ask about them.

"That's not like you," Oliver stated. "Is something wrong?" _Oh please, let it be Ray_, he shouted in his head.

Felicity had poured a couple of glasses of wine by now and pivoted to place one on the counter in front of him. She did not slow down, moving on to put her drink on the coffee table and flopped down on the sofa.

"I think you can guess, Oliver. It's pretty obvious." He shrugged his shoulders and sipped the red blend she'd generously filled in his glass.

"Ray and I are done. Over. Fineto," Felicity proclaimed with a whoosh of her hands. Then she took a slug from her glass while Oliver willed his face to remain serious and concerned. Arrow-y, as Felicity would say. Of course, his internal monologue was full of celebratory invective (e.g. fuck, yeah).

"Obvious? No." He stepped forward and studied her to try to gauge how upset she was. Felicity wasn't crying. She didn't look crushed. She looked kind of annoyed, actually. "Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?" There was sincere concern in his voice now. Damn straight he was happy, but he didn't want her to be miserable. The protective side of him started to simmer. Had Ray finally earned the arrow he'd wanted to put in him since he swooped in and hijacked his company and HIS girl?

"There isn't much to talk about. It just wasn't working. You know, Ray is a great guy. So smart and accomplished and he has a big heart, but in the end the science didn't work." Felicity stretched her feet out on the table and flexed them as Oliver admired how pretty and small they were.

"Yeah, he's a great guy." Oliver piped up. "Science? What do you mean? You are both super geeks. You speak the same language."

"You'd think," she paused. "But in the end, we are probably too much alike. Two sides of the same coin, but unfortunately the same two sides. No chemistry. We took a break last month and decided it stuck." By this point, Felicity was looking deeply into her wine glass, avoiding eye contact with her ridiculously handsome guest.

Now, Oliver's mind was willing him to stride over to envelop Felicity in a reassuring, completely platonic hug. Unfortunately, his leg was really bothering him and he worried that any sudden moves might result in him toppling over. Instead, he just nodded and looked sympathetic.

"So," she continued. "Here I am practicing my five-step relationship dissolution ritual. I do it every time I end a romance. I think it's good to have a ritual, don't you? It gives a nod to the importance of said relationship and also provides closure. When all of the steps are done, I can truly put it in the past and move forward. That's healthy, right?" Oliver nodded in agreement, still actually processing what she was saying.

"Is getting hammered one of the steps?" he chuckled.

"You'd think! But that's just kind of a bonus. When you knocked, I was wrapping up step 4. Spa night. Feeling good and pampering yourself is important. So…pedicure." She grabbed a bottle of purple nail polish and started to shake it.

Oliver had quickly finished his wine and turned to put it back on the bar when Felicity caught sight of the wound on the back of his thigh and shrieked. "Oliver!" Her cry surprised him, causing him to pivot too fast. He crumpled to the floor, his leg now aching and stiff. Felicity dropped the nail polish bottle back on the table and leapt over to him.

"What is that? You're bleeding! Why didn't you say anything?" Her concern bubbled over as she helped him stand up. Oliver pressed his lips together to stifle a groan as he regained his footing and leaned on her until he could reach the counter.

"Not a big deal. A little cut. I'm going to deal with it when I get home."

Felicity grabbed a flashlight from the key bowl next to the door and knelt down behind him. She flipped on the light and studied the wound. The logistics of the situation were suddenly awkward to both of them. Oliver's girl who wasn't his was holding on to his right calf with one hand and breathing close to his injured left thigh. He needed to leave.

"Ugh." How was it that after all of the injuries she had seen over the few years, the sight of ick still bothered Felicity Smoak? "It doesn't look good. I can't believe you weren't going to say anything, Oliver."

"I should be going." On that, Felicity tightened her grip on his right leg. Oliver groaned.

"Oh no you're not. You might need stitches. And if you do, who are going to go to? Roy? Boris Karloff had better sewing." She stood up and looked squarely at him, suddenly sober and ready for action.

"You are not leaving here until I know you are okay. Don't make me use my loud voice. It's late." Oliver sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing with her when she was probably right.

"Okay then. Take off your pants." Felicity's face registered what she had just said and the fluster began. Oliver's eyes darted away and he looked a little embarrassed. "I don't mean, you know, take off your pants like that. But I guess there's only one way to take off your pants, really. And now all I can say is pants. Pants. Frack." Oliver waited for her to get herself together. It took all of her remaining concentration to put together a plan. In the end, she laid it out like a quarterback announcing the next play.

"You, go in the bathroom and take a shower." Oliver nodded slowly, but still unsure of where it was going. "You have to clean the wound, so we can see how bad it is." Oliver processed the logic of this. "While you are in there, I will get my first aid kit and find you something to cover up." Oliver nodded again. Suddenly, Felicity was under his arm and helping him towards the bathroom.

"I always forget how big you are…heavy, I mean." She clenched her eyes shut and helped propel him to the back of her apartment. Oliver disappeared behind the door. "Use the black towels please!" The last thing she needed was blood stains on her white guest towels. Moments later. The door opened, his shoes were tossed out, and the door closed again.

Felicity mindlessly flitted around her place, setting the stage for minor surgery. A first aid kit was produced from under the kitchen counter. Most people kept theirs in the bathroom, but Felicity always thought that was dumb. Living alone, she figured she was more likely to injure herself in the room with the sharp knives and the boiling water. She also divested her toes of the sponges. Her toes would have to wait until another day.

On the other side of the bathroom door, Oliver unbuttoned his leather pants and started to peel them off. "Shit," he whispered. It was going to be very painful. He spotted the black towel set and grabbed a wash cloth. He rolled it up and stuck it in his mouth before shimmying out of right leg, then tentatively removing the left. The straight cut in the leather was about two inches long. He wondered how bad his thigh looked. The mirror in the bathroom was too high and he couldn't see.

Felicity heard her shower come to life and she stopped dead. Oliver Queen was butt naked in her bathroom right now and she was jealous of her loofah. As she assembled her first aid supplies on the coffee table she wondered aloud if he wouldn't actually use her loofah.

Under the spray, Oliver took a deep breath and let the water cleanse his mind and his body. Then he searched for soap and was confronted with a dizzying array of shampoos, hair treatments, body washes and the like. He opened a few bottles and found the one that smelled like wildflowers. He took a deep breath and memorized it. Then he kept searching and was relieved when he found one that smelled like…soap. Scrubbing commenced while he attempted to think about anything else but Felicity Smoak.

Felicity had willed herself forward. She gathered a blanket from her bedroom and spread it on the sofa. Then she snagged a short glass and a bottle of whiskey from her liquor cabinet. She placed them next to the bandages, along with a roll of paper towels. Then she heard the water stop. Awakening from autopilot, she remembered that she needed to get him a change of clothes and rushed into the bedroom.

A few minutes later, Felicity re-entered her living room and stopped cold, dropping the clothes in her hands. Oliver was prone on her couch, facing away from her. He leaned his folded arms against a pillow, with just a black towel covering his formidable derriere. Her breathing became shallower as she approached. Her mouth might have gone dry as well. She wasn't sure. The buzzing in her head was distracting her. Surely she had seen him in less clothing at some point, but this was different. Here he was, served up all fresh and nice, a sheen of wetness across his shoulder blades where he couldn't reach to dry. She congratulated herself for not buying ginormous towels. This one was just perfect to cover him without depriving her of a nice view.

Resting his cheek against his forearm, Oliver cleared his throat to bring Felicity out of her current state of suspended animation. The noise did the trick. She picked up the shirt and sweatpants from the floor and headed towards him with purpose. Of course, he knew exactly what he was doing. And now that Palmer was out of the picture, he wasn't above flashing a little skin to help distract Felicity from that other guy so she could move on. It was for her, he told himself. Oliver Queen was benevolent, after all.

She placed the clothes on the corner of the table. Then, kneeling down next to the sofa, Felicity ordered her inner monologue to pipe down. Yes, he was beautiful. Yes, she was really turned on right now. No, this really was happening. Finally, she pivoted and poured a glass of scotch. "A little anesthesia." She waved it in front of her patient and he gratefully accepted it. At this point, Felicity approached the gash on Oliver's thigh with a steady hand, but realized the sleeve of her robe was going to get in the way. She shucked it off. Oliver watched over his shoulder, noticing with appreciation and a fair amount of lasciviousness that his nurse wasn't wearing a bra under the cotton shirt and it clung to her breasts very nicely. It looked much better on her, he thought. On that note, he gulped down the last of the caramel liquid before placing his glass back on the table.

Everything she needed in front of her, Felicity began the process of fixing her wounded hero. She tried to act like her eyes were laser beams that needed to focus directly on the cut, which she surmised would require seven or eight stitches. This would take a while.

"So, tell me about your five-step ritual," he asked, trying to focus on something other than Felicity's deft and delicate hands inches away from his ass.

"Oh, okay. Right. Well, first, I should tell you that while the steps are numbered, they don't have to be done in order. Step one is technical cleanse. I started that one freshman year when a boy from high school kept calling and calling, even though I had skipped two grades and moved to Boston. Creepy. So, I get a new phone and a new number."

A lightbulb went off in Oliver's mind. "That's why I couldn't reach you tonight."

"Yeah. Sorry. Like everything in the ritual, it's about a fresh start. Also, it's a great excuse to get a new phone and you know how much I love tech." She leaned toward him momentarily, "Of course you'll get the number." Oliver nodded. Every so often he felt a pinching or a burning sensation, but he never registered any discomfort outwardly. He knew Felicity was doing her best to help him. Things went quiet for a while.

As she started on her fourth stitch, Oliver shifted in place and a small green tattoo on crept out from under the towel at his right hip. Felicity couldn't take her eyes off of it until she could make some sense of it. It was a letter. Probably something Chinese. Just thinking about his semi-naked hip was very distracting, so she refocused her attention to the wound until he interrupted.

"Technical cleanse. Okay. What's step two?"

"Dietary detox," she exhaled. Felicity worked carefully, her glasses perched on the end of her nose, occasionally biting her lip. Every so often Oliver would turn his head and see her expression. Usually it was quite pensive and he seriously considered replacing his naughty librarian fantasy with a naughty nurse instead, to be played on a loop whenever he was lonely.

"Now that one is actually the opposite of what it sounds like. That's where I eat sleazy food because I just don't care."

Oliver brightened up. "So, that's why we had pizza in the Arrow Cave last week!"

"Yep. At no time did I say I wanted to go to hell by myself." Felicity studied his muscled legs with desperate interest. They were so close. How easy it would be to run her fingers along the muscles that led up…

"I had two slices," Oliver smiled with pride.

"Roy ate a whole deep dish sausage and pepperoni all by himself," she pulled herself together and grinned. Felicity moved over him to get the last two stitches and as he did her golden hair swept across his legs.

"That's support," Oliver managed to say through gritted teeth. Felicity noticed the change in his voice and became worried. She shifted to his face and looked into his eyes.

"Did I hurt you? I'm really sorry." His hand reached out for her wrist.

"No, Felicity, it's...your hair, it's soft and it tickled. Really."

"Oh." A spark in his blue eyes made her blush. She became self-conscious that her shirt was a little thin and he could see her reactions a little too obviously. Oliver didn't mind this one damn bit.

"Look at me. I've had…many painful..." he said in a quiet voice. "This doesn't even register." Felicity immediately felt relief, but scanning the map of violence on his back once more brought on a sadness. This man who meant so much to her really had been through a lot.


	2. Completing the Five Steps

_"__Look at me. I've had…many painful..." he said in a quiet voice. "This doesn't even register." Felicity immediately felt relief, but scanning the map of violence on his back once more brought on a sadness. This man who meant so much to her really had been through a lot._

**xx**

"I've always wanted to ask you. Your tattoos. Did you get them all because you wanted them? You know, the one on your back…and such?" Felicity arched her brow, knowing full well he was never going to talk about the one on his hip that was currently making her crazy.

"I got them for different reasons. Now they just remind me of things…that matter." That was all he had to say. It was maddening.

Felicity took in his cryptic words and wondered again what was teasing just under that towel. It was killing her.

"Okay, what's step three?"

"Ah, step three is the Personal Purge. I get rid of everything that might have made its way into my house that belonged to the guy. Having it around is kind of intimate and throwing it out is hugely symbolic."

"I tripped on a bag out front."

"Yeah. Ray gave me shoes. Weird, huh?" Her words hung in the air. Oliver was ruminating on them when he heard her whisper, "Slade."

"What?" Of all things for her to say at that particular moment, this threw him. As Felicity finished the final suture, she opened up. "What I said before about us being too much alike. That was only part of it. I thought that he and I could be partners. I really did. But then one night I told him about how it was me who helped stop Slade. How you gave me the syringe and what I did."

Oliver reached back and touched her arm. "You were amazing. If it wasn't for you…"

"Yeah, well, Ray wasn't so impressed. I don't know if imagining his girlfriend stabbing a psychotic killer in the neck freaked him out, or maybe it was finding out that we were so involved in the events that led to his fiancée being murdered by Slade's men. He just didn't look at me the same way after that."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, really. I'm glad I stopped Slade. I did that. Kind of mad ninja skills, right? I'm proud that you believed in me enough to give me that task. Oliver, I don't want to sit at home and be decorative. I want to make a difference, not just working in front of a monitor all the time. Sometimes that means taking risks."

"I know. I don't like it, but I understand. You and your mad ninja skills." The vibe in the room had gotten heavy and Oliver felt like he needed to change the subject fast. "Okay. So step four is Spa Night?"

"Yes! Exactly. Soaking. Exfoliating. Deep conditioning." After her recent revelation about Palmer, all of her words made him want to touch her in the worst way. Now he imagined how smooth her skin felt. She continued, "You just missed the cucumber facial mask that makes me look like a space alien. Lucky you. Then pedicure."

"Damn. Spa night sounds great. Especially the alien mask part. Next time, okay?" he teased her. He watched for a reaction and only saw her smirk and tilt her head. Oliver turned to face forward again and grinned to himself. "Moving along. Step five." Silence.

Oliver to turn his head back toward her. She was blushing a little.

"Felicity. Step five. The last and perhaps most crucial step?"

"I don't know about crucial. It's embarrassing," she whispered breathlessly.

"Come on. Nothing could possibly be more embarrassing than me laying here like this. Totally vulnerable." He thought about what he was saying. It was true. At this moment he trusted her with his well-being and his dignity. How bad could it be? Oliver's mind drifted to a hot place where pole dancing lessons and marathon masturbatory sessions roamed free. Damn, it get a hold of yourself, Queen.

Then, Oliver caught her eyes darting to the boutique bag on the counter. Felicity dropped her head, capitulating.

"New lingerie," she blurted out. "Okay? I buy all new underwear." Felicity couldn't see his elated face. Oliver closed his eyes and smiled a devilish smile. She waited in silence for his inevitable response.

"Satisfied?"

Oliver pursed his lips, his eyes smiling. "Not satisfied. At all. Can I see?"

"Oliver! No."

"Oh, come on, Felicity. I know you've got…things…in that bag. I just want to see."

"That's kind of crossing a line," she protested.

"It's not like I'm asking you to model them for me." Unless you want to. He mouthed that last part to himself while Felicity squealed, "Oliver Queen!"

"I AM wounded," he growled in his vigilante voice. This gave Felicity goosebumps in places she didn't know she could get them.

"You are incorrigible." There was a period of silence where she applied some antibacterial ointment over top of the cut. His skin felt hot to the touch and she realized she was probably lingering there. That mark on his hip was still teasing her too.

"Okay," she drew her words out slowly. "You can see what's in the bag." A smile overtook Oliver's lips. His eyes shot to the counter again and his usual stoic demeanor was replaced by that of a horny fifteen year old. Then Felicity continued, "But then you have to tell me about one of your tattoos. My choice. Deal?"

"That seems fair, Miss Smoak," was all he said. At this point, he would say anything to appease his own randy curiosity. Felicity rose up, snagged the bag from its perch, and then dropped it down in front of him on her way to cutting up his bandages and tape.

Oliver paused reverentially for a moment, and then upended the bag so that the contents fell like feathers into a colorful pile in front of him. One by one, he picked up each delicate panty, each colorful bra and marveled at it. God, he loved women. He tried to made mental notes of what she liked and the sizes while his heart pounded in his ears. "These are nice," he managed to croak.

"Oliver, I'm not sure it isn't a little perverted for you to fondle my bras. Bras I'm not wearing. Not that it would be better if I was in them. I mean, of course it would be fantastic…oh, God." She willed a hole to open up in the floor of her apartment, but it did not come. When she finally looked over, Oliver was rubbing cream-colored satin between his thumb and forefinger. She gulped and, with a wicked smile he couldn't see, promised herself she would wear them the next day.

"My turn now. Tattoo discussion." Felicity placed the bandage and taped it down carefully over his wound. At least now it had a chance of healing properly.

"Mmm hmm." At this point, Oliver was firmly installed in his happy place. Palmer was out of the picture. Felicity was gorgeous and wonderful and he was exploring her unmentionables. Somehow, he was also keeping his libido in check, despite the feast of silky panties in front of him. He liked this place very much and hoped it would last. He felt like toasting the asshat with the machete who had inadvertently made his night possible.

"I want you to tell me about the one on your hip. It looks like an initial." Her words brought Oliver crashing through his happy place into his "damn it, now I'm screwed" place.

"I'm not sure I know what you are talking about," he answered, trying to stay focused on a sheer purple thong. Oh, how he wished this magic time wouldn't end. But now it might.

Felicity couldn't help doing what came next. She tried to stop herself. She truly did. But her curiosity was overwhelming her. Like some kind of naughty Nancy Drew, her fingers gently lowered the edge of the towel so that she could finally see what had previously remained hidden due to its location. Oliver dropped his head, not sure how he could explain. And then, he didn't have to.

Upon closer examination, close enough that her breath warmed his skin, Felicity could clearly see in this intimate corner of his body there was a monogram – two small, green letters intertwined in fancy script. The letter "F" and the letter "S." The implications of this crashed into her and moisture collected in her eyes, forcing her to remove her glasses and place them on the table. Oliver held his breath in the silence. She wasn't saying anything and it was freaking him out.

Suddenly he registered a feeling. Her mouth covering that very spot with a gentle, open kiss.

"Fe-li-ci-ty," he hissed. Fear and arousal hit him simultaneously and he froze. His breathing hitched and he waited for what might come next. He was surprised when she moved away.

Felicity blinked nervously as she gathered the first aid supplies together and headed to the kitchen to put them away. Oliver shifted. It was time to get up. Time to leave.

"There are clothes on the table. We'll have to get those leather pants mended. Who does that? The dry cleaner?" While Felicity was babbling, Oliver examined the clothing she had brought out. His clothes. He knew right away what had happened. When he was dead, she had collected his things and brought them home. And never thrown them away.

"Felicity."

She turned around to see him sitting upright on the couch, his foot on the edge of the coffee table, elevating his bad leg. The towel was just barely covering his lap and he didn't seem to care. His eyes were trained on her, dark. His chest taunted her with perfection. She tried not to linger on the towel. The towel. The towel. "Oh." She took a step back. Not knowing what to say next, she busied herself again, putting things away. He studied the curve of her thighs as she moved around. The way his Henley clung to her in the best places.

When Felicity ran out of things to putter on in the kitchen, she was forced to approach the coffee table to collect the liquor bottle she'd left there. As she drew closer, he sat forward.

"Step three."

"What?"

Oliver reached out and touched her leg, running his fingers along her knee. Apparently this was a new erogenous zone for Felicity Smoak. Actually, she suspected her entire body had taken on this status. She stifled a whimper.

"You never purged my stuff. You never finished dissolving…us." Felicity closed her eyes as Oliver's hand moved to hers, which was trembling a little. He gave it a squeeze and she finally looked at him, shaking her head.

In one move, Oliver tugged her hand and pulled her thigh toward him. Instantly, she was in his lap and pressed up against his chest. His arms wrapped around her. Finally close. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her hair and nuzzling the softness all around him. Meanwhile, Felicity struggled with an emotional wave that overtook her. Her hands touched him everywhere, like she was testing that he was actually there. The heat of his skin and the tension of the muscles in his neck felt amazing beneath her fingers.

Oliver moved his face to look at her and Felicity made contact with the desperation in his eyes. Her mouth crashed down on his and they condensed a thousand kisses into one. His tongue plunged in and found hers as his hands pressed and squeezed her backside. Pressure built within and her hips moved instinctively. The way he was making love to her mouth told her everything she needed to know about what kind of lover Oliver Queen would be.

When Felicity couldn't breathe any longer, she threw her head back. Oliver took the opportunity to run his mouth against her breasts. It wasn't hard to find her nipples, raised beneath soft cotton. He licked and sucked until the fabric was wet and their outlines were defined. He enjoyed the look of them through the slits his eyes had become. The sensations were driving Felicity crazy.

Just being able to touch him was a head rush and she could feel herself peaking unusually fast. Then, the fingers of Oliver's hand slid beneath the waistband of her pants and massaged her lower back while his other hand palmed a breast. He kept nibbling her sensitive skin to hardness, pausing only to groan her name. Felicity ran her fingers through his hair with one hand and allowed the other one to trail down his chest, exploring each nook. When she finally found him, hard and straining under the towel, she lost it.

Oliver was interrupted by her muffled scream and watched in surprise and wonder as the woman he loved came, still fully clothed, straddling him. He had never seen her like that before, her cheeks flushed, her hair tossed side to side, her lips so delicious. The only word he could manage was "Baby," as he pulled her close and felt her ride out her shock and pleasure. His own need was undeniable, but he held on until he heard her moan.

"Did you just call me Baby?" She panted.

"Yes," he growled against her ear. "You just came and I haven't even undressed you yet."

"Yeah." She groaned and threw her head back dramatically.

"Is that okay?" he whispered.

"It was more than okay. It was. Wow. Who knew?" Her answer didn't quite address his question.

"Is it okay that I called you that?" Felicity looked at him and nodded _yes_.

"Good, because I plan on repeating it again. Very soon." Felicity smiled at his words and ran her finger down his shoulder.

"In your growly voice?" her eyes twinkled at him.

"Mmm hmm. Maybe a loud voice too." He pressed his mouth against hers again gently.

When their lips parted, he pulled back and saw that she appeared radiantly happy. A quiet smile crossed his face. He was happy too. Imagine that. His eyes reviewed everything in front of him and a lascivious grin took over. He shifted to standing, pulling Felicity up with him. She wrapped around his waist as he moved slowly and tentatively towards her room. As she rubbed up against him, she moaned again.

"You know what this is?" he asked. She quirked her eyebrow. "It's step three in my five step plan to solidify our relationship."

"What was step one?"

"Making you fall madly in love with me."

"Okay. Flatterer. Good plan so far." Felicity nestled her cheek against his neck as they found their way to the doorway. "Step two?"

"Branding myself so you would be with me forever." Felicity planted kisses along his jaw, enjoying the feel of his stubble against her lips.

"That was evil genius. So this is step three?"

"Yes. In this step, I fondle your panties and then I seduce you."

"What if I'm not wearing any?" Felicity Smoak moaned in his ear.

"Too late. I already fondled them."

"Right," she replied in her quiet voice. "I love you, Oliver Queen,"

"I love you too, Baby," could be heard, as he carried her into the bedroom.

**XX**

**xx**

**Well, I said it was tropy. Thanks so much for reading it anyway! I had a lot of fun writing it. If you liked it, I hope you will read my other stories...The Road to Reconnect (another Olicity) and Soft and Warm (which is a Malcolm Merlyn story, but kind of fun!). Thanks so much for taking the time to leave a review, if you feel so inclined. **


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